


Ragtags Rising

by Triangulum



Series: Alpha Peter and the Ragtags [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Peter, Brief mention of homophobia, Good Peter, M/M, Piercer Erica, Tattoo Artist Boyd, Tattoo Artist Peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-09-14 05:06:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9163501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Triangulum/pseuds/Triangulum
Summary: Peter takes Stiles' hand and lets Stiles draw him into bed, immediately wrapping around Stiles like he's his favorite toy. He presses a kiss behind Stiles’ ear before whispering, "I love you."Stiles loves that about Peter. Peter won't give him useless platitudes or promise it'll all be okay. Peter doesn't pry. He can probably smell Stiles' sadness and will ask about it tomorrow, but he doesn't push tonight. Peter just supports him, reminds him that he's loved, and holds him tightly. That's what Stiles needs, not a pat on the head and a Hallmark movie heart-to-heart about people meaning well.Stiles snuggles into Peter's embrace and sighs, trying to let go of the hurt and betrayal and focus on the man he's with."I love you, too."ORPeter's tattoo shop is doing well, Stiles is finally done with college, the pack is settling in, everyone's tattooed all over the place, and Stiles is ridiculously in love. The big question marks in Stiles' life are his future, if he should tell Scott about werewolves, and how to deal with the fact that the sheriff isn't a fan of Peter. Among other things.Sequel to Alpha Peter and the Ragtags





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! I had such a good reception to Alpha Peter and the Ragtags and decided I'm apparently not done with them yet!
> 
> Additional tags will be added with each chapter. Rating is for later chapters. See the end of the chapter for the brief homophobia warning.

Stiles is really stoked to be done with college. When Scott, Derek, and Isaac go back in September, taking the Greyhound now since Stiles isn't going with them, he's only a little bit smug. They remind him that his course load last year almost killed him, but Stiles waves them off. They can say what they want, they have another year left and he doesn't. 

And Stiles? Stiles spends half his nights at his dad's house and half at Peter's. He dad isn't home a lot, and other than the obvious perk of Stiles seeing his boyfriend, at least one pack member is usually there. Erica and Boyd had moved in months ago when Peter had offered them each one of his extra rooms, but Stiles held off on moving in, even if he does have a bedroom there (he never uses it, he sleeps with Peter). He wants to, make no mistake, but he feels guilty about leaving his dad alone, even if his dad works most of the time anyway.

Most days, like today, Stiles is at Peter's shop. He and Erica hang out at the front desk when she doesn't have any appointments. Boyd is usually shadowing Peter or practicing on an orange, but lately he's been doing simple tattoos on his own. He'd practiced on himself first, a few simple designs on his thighs, before moving on to other live people. Erica had been his first. He hadn't been happy with the moon he'd done on her hip, but Peter showed him how to even out the shading and bam, perfect. 

"How do you do it?" Stiles asks, nodding to the room where Boyd is tattooing a butterfly on a girl who's very heavily flirting with him. Boyd had very purposefully left the door open so she would know everyone can see if she tries anything. "How do you watch all that and not get jealous?"

"People hit on Peter all the time," Erica says.

"Well yeah, Peter's hot," Stiles says.

"You don't let that bother you," Erica says.

"Yeah, but Peter's a dick, his personality will send them away," Stiles says.

"Thanks," Peter says, walking by with a box of supplies.

"Ptsh, you heard my heartbeat, you know that's a lie."

"True," Peter says. He bends down to press a quick kiss to Stiles' lips before heading back to the break room.

"I know where I stand with Boyd," Erica says with a shrug. "And I get a kick out of watching people get their dreams crushed when he tells them he's seeing someone."

"You're evil," Stiles says.

"Honey, you aren't wrong."

A few minutes later, Boyd and the butterfly girl come out. She looks a little put out, but can't stop grinning and looking down at her ankle. Stiles politely doesn't comment about how common butterfly tattoos are. Hey, if they like them, it's their body, who is he to judge? He absolutely judges her on the look she gives Erica when Boyd kisses her forehead though.

"You're up," Boyd says to Stiles.

"Yes sir, boss man, sir," Stiles says, hopping off the counter and following Boyd into his room.

"We're doing your inner wrist, right?" Boyd asks.

"Yep," Stiles says.

Stiles had thought long and hard about where to put the protection sigil. He thought about his chest, but he thinks he wants a full chest piece at some point and wants to leave the space open. He debates the thigh for a bit before deciding on the wrist, knowing he could continue up his arm and incorporate it into a sleeve if he wants to. The symbol is similar to the one Peter has on his neck, though a bit different to account for Stiles' humanness. Peter's witch friend David had recommended it and even helped Peter make a special ink that will help hold its power. Peter refuses to call it magic ink, no matter how much Stiles pesters him about it.

Boyd resets the stencil twice before he's happy with the placement. It's no bigger than a post-it note and Stiles can tell Boyd is nervous. Whether it's because he's working on a pack mate or not, Stiles isn't sure.

"Boyd," Stiles says, placing a hand on the other man's shoulder. "You've got this. I've seen your work, a little sigil is nothing for you."

Boyd actually gives him a smile there.

"It'd suck to disfigure the pack's second," Boyd says dryly.

"You won't," Stiles says. "Trust me, I'm picky as fuck. I wouldn't be here if I didn't know you can do it."

That seems to steel Boyd's nerves because after that, it's smooth sailing. Peter pops in to check on them between his appointments and tells Boyd he's doing a great job. Boyd finishes an hour and a half later, goes over the aftercare instructions, and gets a big hug from Stiles. He patiently hugs Stiles back, but Stiles knows he actually loves it. The sigil turns out perfectly; no wonky lines, no weird patches of shading. Stiles wonders if it's the little something extra in David's ink that makes it look like it's jumping off the skin, or if Boyd is just that good. 

Boyd, like Peter, won't let Stiles pay, but Stiles tips him on what the tattoo would have cost anyway, because art is art and you deserve to be paid for what you do. Erica and Peter both admire the piece before they close up for the night.

"Don't forget to lotion this one," Peter says. "You don't want it to get as flaky as your fox did."

"I forgot one time!" Stiles protests. Peter just tuts him. "You said they all get flaky!"

"They do," Peter says. "It's just more fun to fuck with you."

"Ass," Stiles mutters.

"Are you coming back to the house?" Erica asks.

"Nah, I'm staying at my dad's tonight. I'll see you guys tomorrow, though," Stiles says.

Shockingly, the sheriff isn't working that night, so he has Stiles meet him at a pizza place they both like. Stiles is ready to lecture his dad that for every piece he has, he has to make a trip to the salad bar, when he sees his dad at a table in the back of the restaurant with two other people. Frowning in confusion, Stiles makes his way over. Once he's close enough, he sees that his dad's actually with Mrs. Johnson and her daughter, Heather.

"Hey!" Stiles says when he comes over. "I haven't see you guys in years!"

"Hi, Stiles," Mrs. Johnson says. She stands to hug him. Heather hugs him next before Stiles sits next to his dad. "I ran into your dad the other day at the grocery store."

"We decided it's been too long so we thought dinner would be nice," the sheriff says. His smile is a little too bright and Stiles fights not to frown.

"Uh, yeah, well, it's good to see you guys," Stiles says. Honestly, he had been looking forward to spending some time with his dad since he never seems to be around, but whatever, he can deal with this. 

"You too," Heather says.

"Anyway, we'll leave you two be," Mrs. Johnson says. She stands and the sheriff follows suit.

"Wait, Mom, what?" Heather says, looking like a deer in the headlights.

"Yeah we'll let you kids catch up," the sheriff says. 

Mrs. Johnson sends them a wink.

"Dad!" 

But they're already walking out, both looking supremely pleased with themselves. Before Stiles can call again, they’re out the front door, hustling away from the restaurant. 

"Are they just leaving us here?" Heather asks. "What the hell?"

"I think this is their clever idea of setting us up on a date," Stiles says through gritted teeth. 

"Good god, Mom," Heather mutters. "Nothing against you, but I'm already seeing someone."

"Yeah, so I am!" Stiles says. Which his father knows. Which his father supposedly respects. "Jesus fucking Christ."

"I wondered why she insisted I come out tonight," Heather says. "I was in my pajamas watching cat videos but nooo it's important we get pizza right now!"

"Let's go," Stiles says. He doesn’t feel like pizza. He likes Heather, but this is bullshit. He’s pissed enough that he couldn’t eat now even if he wanted to.

"I rode with my mom," Heather says helplessly.

"I drove, come on," Stiles says.

"Thank god," Heather says, grabbing her coat. From the look on her face, she's about as happy as Stiles is right now.

"Do you want me to take you home?" Stiles asks as they walk out.

"Can you take me to my girlfriend's? She's about a mile away," Heather says.

"Sure," Stiles says. There's silence for the first few minutes of the drive, both of them fuming before Stiles asks, "Does your mom not know you're dating someone?"

"Oh she knows," Heather says darkly. "She just hates her. She thinks she tricked me down the wicked path of bisexuality."

"Well, that is known to happen on planet crazy," Stiles says sarcastically. He probably shouldn't say that about someone else's parent, but he really doesn't give a fuck right now. Heather doesn't seem to care.

"Yeah, it's stupid. What about you, does your dad know you're not single?"

"He sure fucking does," Stiles says. "Peter and I have been together for almost a year."

"Wow," Heather says. "Then what the hell?"

"I don't know," Stiles says. 

Stiles drops Heather off at her girlfriend's house, both of them agreeing that it'd be cool to hang out under other circumstances, before taking off to his dad's. The cruiser is parked in the driveway and Stiles doesn't know if the fact that his dad came home makes him angrier or not. Stiles is out of the car and up the path in a few seconds. He hasn't decided what he's going to do, if he's even going to talk to his dad, before he's walking in the front door and slamming it behind him so hard that the glass in the window shakes.

"Kid?" the sheriff calls from the living room. 

Stiles says nothing. He doesn't trust himself right now. He can't remember the last time he was this mad. He ignores his dad calling his name and walks up to his room. He's planning on grabbing a bag of clothes and leaving again. He's going to Peter's because fuck this. It takes a few moments once Stiles is in his room for him to realize that the backpack he was going to use is at Peter's. So is his laptop, half of his clothes, his phone charger. Hell, he has a toothbrush there. He blinks in surprise, not remembering that happening, then turns right around. No point is staying. When he gets back downstairs, is dad is in the kitchen. Well, it looks like they're doing this now. 

"Stiles," the sheriff says. "What are you doing here?"

"You know, that's a funny question really, considering I was going to ask you that. Why aren't you, for example, spending your rare night off with your son like you promised? Or did you just have better things to do?" Stiles asks.

"I know you're not happy, but try to calm down," the sheriff says and after over twenty two years of living with Stiles, he should know that being told to calm down is a sure fire way to pour gasoline on the flame. "Stiles, Heather's mom and I just thought - "

"What you _thought_ was that you'd ignore the fact that Heather and I are both in relationships. What you thought is that you wouldn't respect us, our decisions, or our partners. What you thought was a good idea was actually shit," Stiles says. He's trying to keep a lid on his rage, he really is, but he hasn't been this livid in years. "What did you think was going to happen? We'd sit there, fall madly in love, and forget that our parents tricked us and left us there? Are you that stupid?"

"Watch what you say to me," the sheriff warns.

"Why?" Stiles says with a scoff. "You don't respect me at all."

"If you'll stop throwing a tantrum and listen to me - "

"You're suddenly not okay with me and Peter? What, not happy I don't want a nice lady and settle down with 2.5 kids? Are you suddenly a homophobe and can't deal with the fact that I'm with a man? No longer cool with the bi thing?" Stiles asks. 

"It's not a bi thing, it's an age thing!" the sheriff yells. Well, Stiles can’t say he was fully expecting that.

"I've been with Peter for almost a year, why is this a problem now?" Stiles asks.

"I didn't think you'd _stay_ together. It'd be a fling then you'd move on with someone your own age!" the sheriff says. "Someone who's worth it!"

Stiles narrows his eyes and he doesn't know what look is on his face, but it makes his dad falter.

"I love Peter," Stiles says, voice dangerously cold. His dad flinches. "It's too bad having kids doesn't work like Build-A-Bear, you can't just make them to your specifications and have them do whatever you want. It's too bad they're always going to be a disappointment."

"I didn't say that," the sheriff says. "I love you, kid, I - "

"You did. You said it every time you asked when I'm going to 'finally put that degree to good use' and when you dance around the topic whenever someone asks what I'm up to these days. You said it when you ignored the fact that your son is in a loving, committed relationship and tricked him into going on a date instead of spending time with him," Stiles says. "You're selfish, and I'm a disappointment."

"I'm sorry you feel that way," the sheriff says. And really, that's the last fucking straw. Stiles turns on his heel and walks to the front door. "Just where do you think you're going? We aren't done talking about this!"

"Oh we most definitely are," Stiles says, opening the door.

"Stiles don't you dare go out that door!" the sheriff yells.

Stiles lets out a harsh laugh.

"I'm twenty-two, dad," Stiles says. "Maybe you've been too busy at work to notice."

Stiles almost regrets that parting shot, but he is so, so _angry_. He'd had no idea his dad would do something like that, or even think of something like that. He hadn't known his dad had hated him being with Peter. His dad had lied to him, tricked him, and had the gall to act like the injured party? Stiles has to take a few deep breaths before starting the car, knowing that it isn't smart to drive angry. He pulls out his phone and calls Peter, putting it on speaker, before pulling out of the driveway.

 _"Hello, Stiles,"_ Peter's voice purrs and the rage in Stiles lessens from a rolling boil down to a simmer.

"I'm coming over," Stiles says. "And no, I don't want to talk about it."

There's a silence for a beat, then, _"Are you hurt?"_

"No," Stiles says.

_"Then okay. Do you want me to stay on the line?"_

"No. Yes. I don't - will you just talk to me about something? Anything?" 

Peter launches in to a story about a consultation he'd had the other day, how the lady had wanted something 'mystical', but couldn't tell Peter what. She'd said no to a unicorn or a fairy, no to anything magic-related, no to any of Peter's probing suggestions. 

"Suggest a werewolf," Stiles says. Peter laughs softly.

_"Should I sketch Talia's beta form and tattoo it on this lady's thigh?"_

Stiles snorts at that, not feeling up to a full laugh. His anger is leaving him, though it's being replaced by sadness and a feeling of betrayal. Stiles doesn’t know which he prefers.

"I'm almost there," Stiles says.

 _"I know, I can hear you,"_ Peter says.

"See you then," Stiles says and hangs up.

A couple minutes later, Stiles is pulling up Peter's secluded driveway. Peter's waiting on the porch, wearing a pair of low-slung black sweat pants and a soft gray henley, his bare feet standing out against the dark wood. Stiles is out of the jeep as soon as he parks and up the stairs into Peter's arms. He sighs as Peter squeezes him tightly, nuzzling at Stiles' cheek. He loves Peter like this, all soft and warm and loving. Peter's made of severity and harsh angles, due to both life's influence and his own personality, but he can be like this with Stiles. And he can be relaxed with his pack. 

"Do you want to go to bed?" Peter asks. 

It's early, only around 9:00 pm, but Stiles is just suddenly emotionally exhausted. He nods and lets Peter guide him inside. He doesn't need it, his knows his way around, he's more than capable of walking up the stairs himself, but he likes Peter's hand on his back and he likes that Peter wants to be near him. Peter nudges Stiles to clean his new tattoo and when he's done, Peter's already turned down the blankets for him. Stiles gratefully crawls into their bed. 

"Do you want to be alone?" Peter asks, hesitating next to the bed.

"No," Stiles says, reaching a hand out. 

Peter takes it and lets Stiles draw him into bed, immediately wrapping around Stiles like he's his favorite toy. He presses a kiss behind Stiles’ ear before whispering, "I love you."

Stiles loves that about Peter. Peter won't give him useless platitudes or promise it'll all be okay. Peter doesn't pry. He can probably smell Stiles' sadness and will ask about it tomorrow, but he doesn't push tonight. Peter just supports him, reminds him that he's loved, and holds him tightly. That's what Stiles needs, not a pat on the head and a Hallmark movie heart-to-heart about people meaning well.

Stiles snuggles into Peter's embrace and sighs, trying to let go of the hurt and betrayal and focus on the man he's with.

"I love you, too."


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles ignores his dad's calls and texts for the next three days. He's neither ready nor willing to deal with him yet. His dad doesn't seem to get the message though, because on his way to the shop, Stiles gets pulled over for the first time in five years. It's Deputy Parish, one of Stiles' favorites, and he looks extremely uncomfortable. 

"Stiles," Parish says.

"Parish," Stiles says. "Was I speeding?"

"No," Parish says awkwardly. 

"Do I have a taillight out?"

"No."

"I wasn't weaving, or texting, or drunk, so I'm guessing my dad ordered you to pull me over?" Stiles asks.

"He's worried about you," Parish says.

Stiles has a million scathing replies ready, but he holds them back. It's not Parish's fault that the sheriff sent him to do his dirty work.

"Tell him I'm alive and to back off," Stiles says.

Parish seems relieved not to have to have a heart-to-heart on the side of the road and nods.

"Have a good day," Parish says.

Stiles doesn't have it in him to wish him the same so he just nods.

By the time he gets into the shop, he's about fifteen minutes late (he'd stopped for coffee because like hell he's going to deal with today without it) and in a foul mood. Erica takes one look at him and points to the back room. Stiles doesn't argue, just marches past the front desk and into the back room, flopping onto the couch as soon as he's close enough. He hears footsteps and knows from the cadence that it's Peter. He whines and reaches an arm out, not bothering to move his head from where it's resting on the cushion. There's an amused huff, then a weight settling by his hip on the couch. Stiles peeks an eye open to see Peter sitting, an eyebrow raised.

"Shut up," Stiles says.

"I didn't say anything," Peter says.

"You were thinking it."

Peter rolls his eyes but starting rubbing soothing circles over Stiles' back. 

"Are you finally going to tell me what's been bothering you?" Peter asks. Stiles groans. "I think three days is enough time to wallow."

"I'm not wallowing!" Stiles says.

"Stiles, I can't help if you don't tell me what's wrong," Peter says and he looks so serious, so earnest, that Stiles groans again and swears before turning over so that he's lying on his back.

"Okay, so don't get mad at me," Stiles says. 

"I'll try not to..." Peter says. "Have you done something that warrants me being angry at you?"

"No," Stiles says. "It's my dad."

"I assumed as much," Peter says.

"He...fuck, okay, he set me up on a date, okay?" Stiles says, then adds quickly, "I didn't know! We were supposed to meet for dinner and he and Heather's mom just kind of shoved us at each other and ran away. I drove Heather back to her girlfriend's house, because apparently Heather's mom is bigot and thinks dick can cure her of bisexuality, then I got into a big fight with my dad about it."

"Are you okay?" Peter asks.

"No! No I am not! I'm not okay that my dad helped a homophobic nutbag, I'm not okay that he doesn't respect my relationship, I'm not okay, this is not okay!" Stiles says.

"All right, come here," Peter says, pulling Stiles up into a sitting position and wrapping him up in his arms. 

"I'm sorry," Stiles mutters into Peter's chest. "I didn't know he didn't like us together."

"Did he say why?" Peter asks.

Stiles hesitates. He doesn't want to tell Peter. He doesn't want his dad's words to make Peter doubt himself, words that Stiles is sure are going to echo what Peter's parents said to him for years. But he doesn't lie to Peter.

"Stiles," Peter prods gently.

"He said he doesn't like the age difference, didn't think we'd last, and that he doesn't think you're good enough," Stiles says, voice small. 

"I'm not," Peter says simply.

"What?" Stiles says, yanking himself out of Peter's grip to look up at the man's face. The most heartbreaking thing is that Peter looks like he wholeheartedly agrees. "No! Bull-fucking-shit, Peter!"

"Stiles," Peter says patiently. 

"No. Hell no, okay?" Stiles says. He crawls onto his knees and grasps Peter's shoulders. "You listen to me, okay? You are more than good enough for me. STOP SHAKING YOUR HEAD."

"You could do better than me, Stiles," Peter says softly.

"Okay, lets spin reality for a second and say that that's true. How? What exactly are you lacking? By everything society claims you need to be a good partner, you've got it! You own your own home, you have your own business, you're successful, you're gorgeous, and you _love me_ ," Stiles says. "By the way, I don't care about any of that except the you love me part. You could be homeless, jobless, and look like the potato, and I will still love you."

Peter looks a bit overwhelmed at that and Stiles feels a bit like a shit person if his boyfriend looks that surprised when he compliments him. It makes his anger toward his dad flare even brighter.

After that, Stiles makes it his mission to convince Peter that he's good enough. He makes sure to point out everything Peter does for Stiles and for his pack. He gets Erica and Boyd in on it, too, because they also know what it's like to have "an alarming deficiency of self esteem". Stiles even gets Isaac to call and talk to Peter about how much he appreciates being a part of a pack. Stiles thinks it might actually be working, which is of course when the Hales decide to have a family reunion. Normally, that'd be fine, but it means that Nana and Pop Hale are coming. 

Nana and Pop Hale had retired to Florida a few years ago (something that Stiles didn't know werewolves do, go figure), but they come back periodically to see their family. This time, they decided to make a family reunion out of their trip. So all the Hales that married into other packs or just moved to try something new are flying back to Beacon Hills. Emily, Peter's younger and favorite sister, had married into a pack in New Orleans and would be coming up with her wife. Peter's excitement to see her almost overshadows his dread of seeing Nana and Pop Hale.

The thing about Nana and Pop Hale is that they don't like Peter. They love him, he's their son, but from everything Peter's said, they don't like him. Peter's always been second best to Talia. He graduated from NYU with a 4.0, and it didn't matter. He was a successful business lawyer, and it didn't matter. He was tapped to be Talia's enforcer, but to his parents, that made him 'other', almost outside the pack. What he was supposed to do made him disdainful. So he said fuck it, followed his passion and became a tattoo artist. Of course, Nana and Pop Hale hate that too. Peter became an alpha, and it doesn't matter. No matter what Peter does, he won't be as good as Talia, as good of a son as they want. Stiles hates them for that.

Derek comes home for the reunion, which Stiles is stoked for. Even though it's only been a couple of months, Stiles misses Derek while he's at school. He, Derek, and Scott have been inseparable for years, so it's weird to have them far away. And if he's honest with himself, a little worried that they'll be fine without him and not miss him at all.

He needn't have worried though. As soon as he and Peter park behind the long line of cars in the Hale driveway, Derek is there. He all but yanks Stiles out of the car and into a tight hug. Stiles sighs and hugs him back. It's hard being without his best friend. He has Peter and the pack, and while he loves them all, they're not a substitute for Derek and Scott.

"They're driving me crazy," Derek hisses into his ear. 

Peter snorts from next to him and pulls Derek into a hug when he releases Stiles.

"They're family, it's what they do," Peter says.

"Oh, well yeah, but I meant Isaac and Scott," Derek says.

Stiles raises his eyebrows at that. 

"Uh, what?" Stiles asks.

"They're my friends, and I love them, but Jesus Christ," Derek says. "They're basically worshiping each other. If I didn't know that Scott has a girlfriend, I'd swear they were going to start dating."

Stiles' eyebrows climb even higher at that, because what? He'd known that Scott and Isaac get along and they were close, but...what?

Stiles doesn't have time to question more though because Laura and Cora come out of the house and basically drag Stiles and Peter in. Laura takes Stiles' casserole to the kitchen when Stiles and Peter are immediately latched on to by her little cousins. A little boy who's missing his two front teeth is attached to Peter's leg, grinning up at him. Stiles doesn't recognize him, so he assumes it's one of Peter's other sister's kids. Peter's face lights up.

"Hey, little man," Peter says, reaching down to pick up the kid. Stiles would guess the boy is six, though if he's a werewolf, it's hard to say. The boy shrieks in delight as Peter turns him upside down and tickles his sides. "You've gotten so big!"

"Uncle Peter, I have too!" shouts the girl that's clinging to Stiles' leg. She looks remarkably like the little boy, only where his hair is sandy blond, hers is a deep red. 

"So you have," Peter says, reaching out. 

The girl detaches herself from Stiles and flings herself at Peter's side, letting him give her a one-armed hug while he tosses the boy over his shoulder. Stiles' insides are warm and gooey and ugh. Stiles knows that Peter loves kids, but seeing it always does something to him.

"Stiles, this little monster is George," Peter says, jostling the boy over his shoulder. "And this is his twin sister, Ophelia." 

The little redhead grins and holds out her hand for Stiles to shake.

"Pleased to meet you," she says and shakes seriously, then grins. "Mommy says it's the polite thing to say even if we don't mean it, but I actually mean it! Because you're Uncle Peter's boyfriend!"

Stiles grins right back.

"That I am. Pleased to meet you, too, Ophelia," Stiles says.

"Leah," the girl says. "Ophelia sounds like an old lady."

"Well I think it's pretty," Stiles says. Leah grins. 

"Peter!" 

Stiles looks up to see a pretty woman with Leah's dark red hair come running into the room. She barrels into Peter, despite her kids' cries of protest, and hugs him tightly. Peter hugs her back as best he can with two kids attached to him. This is Emily, Stiles remembers. He's only met her once or twice, but there are pictures of her and her family around the Hale house. Peter has her Christmas card on the fridge in his house.

"Mooom, you're squishing me!" Leah protests from where she's trapped between the two adults. 

"Sorry, baby," Emily says, pulling back. She turns to Stiles with a grin and before Stiles can say anything, she's hugging him, too. "Oh Stiles, it's so good to see you! You're so much older than last time!"

Stiles has always liked Emily. She's got the same feisty nature as Peter and even though she moved for college and then to get married when Stiles was really young, he remembers her always having time for playing with him and Derek.

"Hey, Emily," Stiles says, hugging her back. 

"Oh my god, I was so happy when Peter told me you too were together!" she says.

"What, really?" Stiles asks, surprised. The rest of the Hales hadn't been angry exactly, but they hadn't been jumping for joy, either.

"Of course!" Emily says. "He talks about you all the time. You make him so happy."

"Uh huh, let's go," Peter says, setting George back on the ground and trying to steer Emily back into the kitchen. "Don't listen to a word she says, she's a liar. I'm miserable."

Stiles snorts and watches Peter tug Emily with him. George and Leah look up at him with identical smirks and with their blue eyes, it's such a Peter look that it makes him happy that neither he nor Peter ever want spawn.

"What's up?" Stiles asks the two of them.

"Nana and Pop are here," George says. 

Stiles' stomach drops.

"And we aren't allowed to be rude in front of them," Leah says. "So do you want to come play with us in the backyard so we don't have to be around them?"

Stiles chokes on his laughter. He hopes that wherever Nana and Pop are in the house, they were too occupied to hear that. Either George and Leah don't have a concept of werewolf hearing yet or they don't care. Stiles suspects it's the latter.

"Let me check in with Talia and see if she needs any help first, okay kiddos?" Stiles says.

"We'll be in the backyard!" Leah says, running out through the kitchen to the backdoor with George hot on her heels. 

Stiles shakes his head in amusement and follows them into the kitchen to join Peter and Emily. Talia and David are in there too, all of them dancing around each other trying to help cook. Talia eventually just shoos them out and tells them she can do it herself. That's when Nana Hale decides to make her appearance.

"Oh Talia, you always did take on so much. Will no one help you?" she asks.

Stiles grits his teeth and tries not to point out that Nana Hale has werewolf hearing and could easily hear that Talia had just told them to let her do it.

"It's fine, Mom," Talia says. "I'm almost finished."

Nana Hale tsks. Peter's face is carefully blank and Stiles hates it. Nana Hale turns as if just realizing Peter and Stiles are in the room and she apparently just can't contain her look of disappointment. She schools it quickly, but Stiles isn't sure that it wasn't there on purpose in the first place.

"Hello Peter, Stiles," Nana Hale says. She hugs each of them delicately and quickly, as if they smell and she doesn't want to touch them for too long. 

"How are you, Stiles dear?" Nana Hale asks. 

It used to delight him that she called him dear, that even though he isn't a Hale, she wanted to talk to him and liked him. Now it just makes his skin crawl, especially with how she doesn't make ask about her own son first.

"Fine," Stiles says, taking Peter's hand in his. "Enjoying being with Peter."

"Ah yes, Talia did mention you two had entered a relationship," Nana Hales says. "Huh, I thought you'd have broken up by now."

"Nope!" Stiles says, forcefully cheery. "Still happily in love."

"Oh well good for you dear," Nana Hale says and pats him on the cheek. Stiles has the absurd urge to bite her. "And Peter, what have you been doing? Still drawing?"

"I'm still a tattoo artist, yes," Peter says. 

"Oh, I see," Nana Hale says, as if she'd thought Peter had magically taken up corporate law again. "Are you sure your firm won't take you back?"

"Quite," Peter says.

Nana Hale opens her mouth again and Stiles has had enough for now and says, "Peter! Is that George and Leah calling us? Let's go."

Stiles bodily pushes Peter to the backdoor and out of the kitchen, not caring one bit that Nana Hale can obviously tell that Leah and George weren't calling for them at all. As soon as they catch sight of Stiles and Peter, they shout at run at them, though (either they have incredibly lucky timing or they're devious little spies and were listening in on their conversation). So it's only a partial lie, right?

Leah and George pull them into a game about George being a prince that needs to be saved from Leah, the fearsome dragon. Stiles and Uncle Peter are playing the parts of the valiant rescuers when Derek swoops in out of nowhere and tackles Peter and Stiles.

"Derek!" George shrieks when Derek turns on him. "What are you doing?"

"I'm the dragon's brother!" Derek growled. 

Leah shouts in joy as she and Derek proceed to stomp all over poor Prince George and his rescuers.

"Aren't the dragons supposed to be slain, not the other way around?" Peter asks as he sits up after dramatically 'dying'.

"The bad guys don't always lose," Leah says sagely. "Plus, the dragon just needed food."

"Ah, I see," Peter says.

Peter, Derek, George, and Leah all turn their heads at once toward the house, hearing what Stiles assumes is someone calling for them that he can't hear. 

"God, it's weird when you guys do that," Stiles says.

"Lunch is almost ready," Peter says. 

Derek helps George and Leah to their feet and they repay him by using his arms as swings. Derek walks to the backdoor with a kid on each arm, swinging from his limbs like a rope swing. Leah lets go when they get to the door and darts back to where Peter and Stiles are still sitting in the grass. Leah takes Peter's face in her hands and looks at him very seriously.

"Uncle Peter," she says. "The bad guys have families, right?"

"I suppose so," Peter says. 

"Are Nana and Pop your bad guys?" she whispers. Stiles doesn't know if she's quiet enough that no one inside can hear her or not, but he hopes they can't."

Peter looks at her for a long time and Stiles doesn't think he's going to answer, but Peter whispers, "Sometimes." His voice is soft and cracks a bit, like it pains him to say it.

Leah nods and throws her arms around his neck. Stiles barely hears her say, "Don't let the bad guys win."

"I'll try, kiddo."

"Do or do not, there is no try," Leah says.

Stiles fights back a laugh at how seriously she says it. Peter smirks,

"Okay, let's go get washed up. I'm pretty sure your mom will have my head if you come to the table covered in dirt," Peter says. 

Leah agrees easily and takes Peter's hand, then, to Stiles' surprise, takes Stiles' hand too and walks them back to the house. Stiles wonder if Peter knows the look on his face makes him look like he's walking to the executioner. 

"Hey," Stiles says, stopping Peter from following Leah inside. Stiles leans into Peter's space, resting their foreheads together. "I love you, okay?"

"I know," Peter says. "I love you, too."

"Remember, meerkats?"

"Meerkats," Peter agrees.

Meerkats had been Stiles' idea. Whenever either of them are in a situation that they're uncomfortable in but don't want to downright say it in front of whoever they're with, they drop in the word 'meerkats' into conversation. He'd learned it watching Lydia and Allison out at a bar getting hit on by creepy guys. Whenever one of them said 'the French Alps', the other would swoop in an save them the unwanted attention. Lydia's version usually involved spilling drinks on people while Allison's method tended to rely on pain. Stiles hopes he doesn't have to do either of those today.


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles loves Peter's nieces and nephews and hates Nana and Pop Hale. George and Leah are deviant little shits and demand that Peter and Stiles sit next to them for lunch because "We haven't seen Uncle Peter in sooo long, please!" As soon as Emily caves, Peter and Stiles are dragged halfway down the table, right to the divide between the kids' and adults' parts of the table. So basically, as far from Nana and Pop Hale as they could get without downright sitting with the children. Stiles is shit at guessing kids' developmental phases, but is this level of deviousness normal in six-year-olds? Fuck if he knows. 

Stiles is immensely grateful to Derek and Cora right now, both of whom steer the conversation away from Peter whenever they feel like it's drifting toward dangerous territory. When Pop Hale starts talking about how so many small businesses fail, Derek chimes in about how he thinks he might be failing chemistry, do you know anything about that? Cora even says she thinks her coworker Justin might be a vampire, what are the signs again? when Pop Hale reminds the kids to be like Talia when they grow up.

But even they can't stop Nana Hale when she directly addresses Stiles.

"You know, Stiles, Talia would happily take you into her pack if you asked," Nana Hale says.

"Mom," Talia says warningly.

"I'm in Peter's pack," Stiles says. He's impressed at how level he's keeping his voice, though if he were a wolf, he's sure his eyes would be flashing.

"Well, you don't have to be, kid," Pop Hale says. His genial smile makes Stiles feel nauseated.

"Well, you see I love you son, and I'm his second, so I'm good where I am," Stiles says in a falsely sweet voice. Peter takes his hand under the table.

Stiles thinks they've made it out of lunch unscathed when Nana Hale makes a disparaging comment about 'young people and all those nasty tattoos'. Peter's hand convulses around Stiles' where they're resting on the table and Stiles thinks this might be where Peter finally loses it. Tattooing is his passion, his livelihood. It's his art and his love and to shit all over that...Stiles is about to just go off when Cora stands. Nana and Pop Hales' eyes wide as she pulls up the side of her shirt to show the beautiful DNA strand Peter had inked on her last year. 

"I happen to love mine," Cora says. 

Derek pulls his shirt up and turns around so they can see his triskelion.

"I do, too," Derek says.

"Oh Derek, such a sign of devotion to your pack!" Nana Hale says.

Stiles thunks his head against the table.

Peter and Stiles manage to escape into the kitchen by volunteering to do dishes. This brings them in from the back patio where the dozens of Hales are gathered and into the relative safety of the house. Peter lets out a harsh breath when they get in and leans over the sink, his hands braced on the counter. Stiles wraps his arms around him and rests his head between his shoulder blades.

"I'm sorry," Stiles murmurs.

"Nothing about this is your fault," Peter says.

"Are you sure we can't just yell at them?" 

Peter snorts.

"I'm sure."

They spend a lot of time washing the dishes, way longer than is strictly necessary, but Stiles doesn't mind pruney fingers. If he happens to give Peter a soap beard, well, that's between them. Emily comes in right when they're done and wraps her arms around Peter in a tight hug. Peter hugs her back, sighing into his sister's hold.

"I didn't think they'd be this bad," Emily says.

"Neither did I," Peter says. "It's easy to forget, to make yourself think you're making it out to be worse than it is."

"You're not," Emily says. "It's awful, it's unacceptable, it's..."

"It's the way it is," Peter says. "We both know that if you say anything, you won't change their minds, you'll just get on their bad side."

Emily sighs. "I love you, little brother," she says.

"I love you too."

"Come watch the kids with me now. I think they're playing some sort of dragon game?"

Peter laughs and he and Stiles fill her in on their game from earlier.

Peter and Stiles drift from group to group. They spend a lot time chatting with a second cousin that does home repair work. She's interested in what they've done with the shop and house and is suitably impressed with Peter's work. They talk to Emily and her wife for a few hours about the kids, Emliy's pack, and even a plan to come down and visit. Stiles can tell Peter is more relaxed now. Nana and Pop are still around, but their attention is elsewhere and Peter is able to relax more and spend time with his favorite sibling. 

It's strange to watch Nana and Pop Hale with their grandchildren. They're doting and loving, and while they clearly have favorites, they don't treat any of them badly, not like they treat Peter. Stiles can't imagine what it was like for Peter to grow up with people who basically told him with every action that he wasn't good enough. He tries not to think about it because he's just going to get angry and he really shouldn't around a family that can literally smell emotions.

When Talia and her husband Paul shout that dinner will be ready in ten minutes, Emily stands up and calls out for Leah and George. They come racing from the side of the house, followed by Miranda and a few of the other cousins. Leah and George crash into the parents' legs, all grins.

"Mommy, Momma, look! We're like Uncle Peter! And Stiles and Cora and Derek!" George says.

George, Leah, Miranda and a few of the other cousins have marker in all colors covering their arms completely, giving themselves crayola versions of sleeves. George's features a lot of swirls and a big pink cat and Leah's has, shockingly, a dragon. 

"Look at you, you little artists!" Emily says. "Okay I see a kitty, a dragon, oh is that a castle? I love the whiskers, George."

"Now really," Nana Hale says disapprovingly. 

"Oh relax, Mom, it's washable marker, it'll come right off," Emily says. 

"You really should keep the children away from such bad influences," Pop Hale says sadly.

And Stiles has really had enough. Apparently so have Emily and Cora because all three of them going deathly still at once. Emily's eyes are hard and her mouth pressed into a thin line.

"George, Ophelia, please go inside and wash you hands for dinner," Emily says stiffly.

Leah and George go, and Stiles can barely hear George say, "Uh oh, Mommy's mad." The other cousins follow them quickly, unnerved by the sudden tension in the backyard.

"So, how's it feel to be the world's shittiest parents?" Stiles asks conversationally.

Nana and Pop Hale both look around for a second, before looking surprised to realize that Stiles is talking about them.

"Excuse me?" Nana Hale says, voice dangerous.

"I'm sorry, did I stutter?" Stiles says. "Maybe I wasn't clear. How. Does it feel. To be the world's. Shittiest. Parents?"

"Watch you tone, boy," Pop Hale growls. "I was the Hale alpha for - "

"Yeah and you're not anymore, are you?" Stiles snaps. "Nope, you packed up and fucked off to Florida. You know who's an alpha? Peter. You know who's running a successful pack? Peter. Who's here for his family instead of living across the country? Peter. You know who is loved by all his family? Peter. Oh, except by you, of course. Do you love your son? Do you know what it even means to?"

"You are out of line, Stiles!" Nana Hale says. "Peter, control your boyfriend!"

"No," Peter says lazily. He's lounging in his chair, apparently quite content to watch the show, though Stiles knows if anyone were to threaten him, Peter would be out of that chair in a hot second. 

"You see, my dad's the sheriff," Stiles says slowly, though it still pains him to think about his dad right now. "So trust me, I've seen the lowest of the low. But nothing ever disgusts me as much as useless, abusive parents."

"We never hit out children!" Nana says.

"Believe me when I also say," Stiles continues as if she hadn't spoken, "that as the child of a cop, I know how to make life very difficult for people."

"Are you threatening us?" Pop Hale asks, more astonished than angry.

"Yes," Stiles says simply. 

"Maybe we should all take a deep breath," Laura tries. "And - "

"No," Cora says. Everyone looks at her in shock. "Peter has always been here for us. Even if he's lived in New York, he would always answer the phone whenever I needed him. How you treat him isn't _fair_ Nana and Pop." Peter looks at her like he wants to hug her and never let her go.

"We're not staying for dinner," Stiles says. Peter takes that as his cue and stands. "Everyone, it was lovely to see you all. Except you two, you two can fuck off," Stiles says, pointing at Nana and Pop Hale. 

"Peter, don't you dare leave or - "

"You'll what?" Peter asks, voice scathing. "You'll cut off my inheritance? Do it, I don't care. You'll never talk to me again? It will be a blessing. You've been nothing but disdainful of me since I was born. The youngest, the accidental child you never wanted." 

"Peter, we love you," Nana Hale says. "It's just..."

"I'm gonna stop you right there," Stiles says. "A parent should never, ever say, 'I love you, but...'. Despite your best efforts, you raised (and I say that loosely) a wonderful son. I love the shit out of him and we're going to go somewhere that's worth our time. So, literally anywhere but here."

"I'm coming with you," Cora says. Nana Hale tries to grab her elbow when she walks by but Cora yanks it from her grip. "Don't worry. Scary Uncle Peter has corrupted me already," she says.

"Cool," Stiles says. "Let's get froyo."

Talia and Paul are standing slack-jawed in the kitchen when they walk through, trying to keep the kids from rushing outside to see what the yelling was about. 

"Peter..." Talia says. "I didn't..."

"It's them, not you," Peter says, but he doesn't look at her. He follows Stiles out, Cora behind them.

"Cora..." Paul says.

"I'll be back tomorrow," Cora says.

Peter stops them when they get to the car and yanks Stiles to him, burying his face in the other man's neck. Stiles hugs him back just as fiercely. 

"You're mine," Stiles whispers. "No one is allowed to hurt you, you're mine." 

Peter pulls back only to tug Cora into a hug too.

"Thank you," he murmurs. 

"You don't need to thank us," Cora says. "We're doing what's right."

"What she said," Stiles says. "Now come on, we need some frozen yogurt and a mindless action movie."

They stop at a grocery store and load up on four quarts of frozen yogurt before heading back to Peter's. Stiles texts Boyd and Erica in advance and they have the Italian Job set up and ready to play when they get home. They've also dragged all the couch cushions and blankets onto the floor and set up a little nest on the rug. Stiles nudges Peter toward them and hands him a quart of frozen yogurt before heading to the kitchen to put away the other three and grab some spoons. When he comes back out, Cora is leaning against Peter's legs and Erica is curled up against his left side, Boyd curled up behind her. Stiles smiles softly and turns off the lights before joining them, lying against Peter's left side.

Boyd falls asleep ten minutes into the movie, like normal. Erica snorts but cuddles closer to his side. Cora seems a little tentative at first, like she doesn't want to invade on the other pack's bonding, but Stiles tries to make sure she knows she's welcome. Stiles rests a hand on her shoulder where she's lying on his and Peter's legs and toys with her hair the way he knows that Erica likes. He isn't sure if he's about to be punched in the face, but Cora relaxes into it so he figures he's okay. 

Peter shifts toward the end of the movie, eyes going to the door. Before Stiles can ask what, there's a knock.

"It's Derek," Peter says. 

Stiles goes with Peter to the door, unsure what he's going to do. He hopes Derek and Peter aren't going to fight. It's been a hell of a day already and after everything with his dad...he just can't see two of the most important people in his life at each other's throats. When Peter opens the door, Derek's shoulders are hunched and he's looking down. 

"Derek?" Peter asks.

"I'm sorry," Derek says quietly.

Stiles looks at Peter, who just shrugs.

"Sorry for what?" Peter asks.

Derek looks up then and he looks so conflicted and nervous that Stiles just wants to hug him. 

"I shouldn't have let Nana and Pop say anything to you. I should have stepped in like Aunt Emily and Stiles," Derek says. "I don't blame you for being mad at me."

"I'm not mad at you, Derek," Peter says. "They're your family. Those are your grandparents. I don't blame you for not wanting to fight with them."

"Yeah dude. You're not exactly the most confrontational person," Stiles says.

"But they're _my_ family. You shouldn't have to be the one to tell them what they're saying is wrong," Derek says.

"I'm not mad at you," Peter says again.

"Will you accept my apology?" Derek asks and wow, without Stiles around, Scott has really gotten more of that pesky morality compass of his into Derek.

"I do," Peter says. 

Derek sags in relief and lets Peter pull him in for a hug. Cora walks out from the living room and is immediately pulled in, too. Stiles backs away and lets them have their moment. 

"They okay?" Erica asks when Stiles gets back to the living room. Boyd's awake and sitting up next to her.

"Yeah," Stiles says. "I think Derek and Cora are staying here tonight."

"I'll help you get the guest rooms ready," Boyd says, standing. 

"Thanks," Stiles says.

The beds already have clean sheets on them, but Stiles hates the feeling of stale sheets that have been there for a while, so he changes out the bedding. Boyd does the room opposite him, making sure no one has left anything out of place. It's a bit silly since no one is ever in the spare rooms, but it's something Stiles' mom always taught him to do, and Boyd's family had also.

"Hey," Boyd says, stopping Stiles before they go back downstairs. "Have you talked to you dad?"

"No," Stiles says, swallowing down the hurt that always flares when he thinking about his dad lately. "And I don't know when I will."

"That's okay," Boyd says. "I'm not tell you to. I'm just telling you we're here for you."

"Damn right we are!" Erica yells from downstairs.

Stiles snorts, but it's fond.

"Thanks," he says. "I don't...I don't know what to say to him, you know? I don't think he even knows why what he did was wrong."

Boyd just shrugs. 

"The only way to know is to talk to him," he says. 

"I thought you said you aren't pushing me one way or the other?" Stiles says.

"I'm not," Boyd says. "But you won't know what he's thinking unless you ask him."

"And if I don't like what he has to say? What then? Do I lose my dad because I love Peter? Do I lose Peter because my dad can't take our relationship and keeps trying to drive us apart?" Stiles says. 

"You won't lose Peter," Boyd says firmly. "I don't know what will happen with you dad, but I know that Peter loves you and he would never leave you, especially not over this." 

"I know," Stiles says. "It's still...still."

"I know," Boyd says. He claps a hand on Stiles' shoulder and gives him a long look that Stiles would normally laugh off, but it's sincere and full of caring and god, how did Stiles get these good people in his life?

"Thanks, Boyd," Stiles says quietly before turning and going down the stairs.

Erica hugs him as soon as his feet hit the floor because apparently tonight is all about hugs.

"We love you, okay?" she says.

"I love you guys, too," Stiles says.

He needs to get to bed. It's been a long, emotional day and he just needs to fucking sleep, preferably wrapped around Peter. Peter seems to have the same thought because he shows Derek and Cora to the guest rooms and the clothes (Erica's and Peter's) that they can borrow for the next day before taking Stiles' hand and all but dragging him to their room. Stiles undresses slowly, not out of the desire to be alluring, but he's just so bone-weary that he doesn't have the energy for anything else. Peter seems to be thinking the same as he gets ready for bed. They sleep nude because both of them love the feeling of nothing between them but skin, and Peter immediately pulls Stiles to him when he crawls into bed, burying his face in the other man's neck.

"Are you mad at me?" Stiles asks quietly.

"No," Peter breathes against Stiles' throat. 

"Are you sure? I kind of made a hurricane of your family reunion...."

Peter snorts into Stiles' neck.

"They'll survive," Peter says.

"I mean...I _really_ yelled at your parents," Stiles says.

"Stiles," Peter sighs and lifts his head like it's the biggest hardship he's ever had to endure. "My parents...my parents are good people. When my dad was the alpha, they put the pack first. They love their grandchildren. They donate to the Humane Society and cancer research. They also happen to not like their son. Sometimes good people do awful things."

"It's not fair," Stiles says. 

"It's not," Peter agrees. "But I have you. I have my pack, my family. I've buried the hatchet the Talia, I get to see my nieces and nephews whenever I want. I have a job I love. I'm okay without them." Peter smirks a bit and adds, "And I got to see the looks on their faces when you verbally eviscerated them in front of their entire family."

Stiles groans and buries his face in his hands.

"I'm going to be banned from the Hale house for the rest of my life," Stiles says.

"Only when they're in town," Peter assures him. "Derek said that Talia yelled at out mother when we left."

"What, really?" Stiles asks. "Talia. Talia as in always in control, alpha, can be a little haughty sometimes, Talia?"

"'Lost her shit' is how Derek described it," Peter says. He sounds entirely delighted by the idea.

"Well...shit. I'm sorry we missed it," Stiles says.

"You covered enough that we probably didn't miss much," Peter says. "Now get back over here, I need to sleep."

Peter curls back into Stiles, burying his face back in Stiles' neck. Stiles wraps his arms around Peter, right over the fruit bat tattooed on Peter's hip. Peter breathes out a contented sigh and Stiles lets himself go, drifting off with the man he loves.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little shorter than usual, sorry! It was just a good cutting off point.

Stiles has only been asleep for a few hours when his phone rings. He groans and blindly reaches for the nightstand where the phone is. He doesn't bother to look at the caller ID before answering.

"Hello?" he asks sleepily.

 _"Stiles! Tell me you aren't at Jungle right now."_ It's his dad's voice on the line and something in Stiles' stomach jerks.

"I'm not at Jungle right now," Stiles says.

There's a sharp exhale on the line and his dad says, _"Good, good."_

"Why?"

_"There was a shooting, we're on our way there now."_

"No, Peter and I haven't been in a few months," Stiles says. In all honesty, he and Peter have only gone a few times for people's birthdays or fetish nights.

 _"I'm glad you're both safe,"_ the sheriff says.

Stiles has the urge to say yeah, right, but he knows that his dad doesn't actually wish Peter physical harm, so he bites it down. 

"Stay safe," Stiles says.

_"Stiles...can I call you later? To talk?"_

Stiles wants to say no. Stiles wants to tell him to fuck off and he's still mad at him. But seeing Peter's parents, the way they treat him...he doesn't want to be that separated from his dad. 

"I'm still pissed at you," Stiles says bluntly. "But I'm willing to talk."

 _"That's all I ask,"_ the sheriff says. _"I'm sorry, kiddo. Look, I have to go, we're almost there. I'll call you later."_

"Okay," Stiles says. 

Stiles hangs up and groans, setting his phone on the nightstand before flopping back onto the bed. Peter throws an arm over Stiles waist and pulls him closer. Stiles sighs and turns his face into Peter's shoulder.

"It's a bad idea," Stiles says.

"You'll be fine," Peter says sleepily.

"Sure," Stiles says into Peter's shoulder. "Whatever you say."

"It will be fine," Peter says, nuzzling at Stiles.

Stiles wants Peter to be right, but he still has a hard time getting back to sleep.

Stiles is grumpy when he wakes up after getting barely five hours of sleep. He tries to push past it though because Isaac is going to Skype the pack later and he isn't always comfortable around a lot of negative emotions. Stiles tries to keep himself in check in around Isaac in general that way. Stiles makes it through most of the call fine, he actually has missed Isaac, despite how much of a dick he can be. Then Isaac starts fidgeting toward the end of the call and playing with his hands.

"Isaac?" Erica asks.

 _"Are we allowed to date outside the pack?"_ Isaac asks.

"Dude of course you - " Stiles cuts himself off and looks at Peter. "He can date outside the pack, right?"

"Yes, Stiles," Peter says with an eye roll. "Especially considering we're such a small pack."

"Ooh, who're you looking to date?" Erica teases. 

Stiles has a feeling he knows. 

_"It's, uh, it's Scott,"_ Isaac says, blushing furiously. 

"Scott has a girlfriend," Erica says, confused.

 _"Yeah, we uh, we were kind of going to all go out together,"_ Isaac says.

"Huh," Erica says.

_"Stiles and Peter, you two don't seem surprised...Derek snitched."_

"Little bit," Stiles says. "Not about Allison though."

 _"Is it going to be a problem? Because of Allison?"_ Isaac asks warily. _"I asked Derek and he said it's fine with him, but you guys are my pack and...yeah."_

"It's fine," Peter says slowly, like he's carefully weighing his words. "I caution you to be careful. Even though she knows about werewolves, don't reveal yourself to either of them without talking to me first."

 _"I can do that,"_ Isaac says, nodding along. He looks relieved and frankly, Stiles doesn't blame him. If he were Peter, he doesn't know if he'd be able to be okay with that. _"Are you okay with it, Stiles?"_

Stiles blinks.

"Yeah dude, why wouldn't it be?" Stiles asks.

_"Well, he's one of your best friends, I don't want you to think I'm moving in on your territory or anything like that."_

Stiles waves off his concern.

"Scott is his own person and as long as he's happy, I'm happy," Stiles says. "Plus, I'm dating a man significantly older than me, it's not really my place to throw stones at non-traditional relationships."

"Not _significantly_ older," Peter grumbles.

"Point is," Stiles says, rolling his eyes at Peter. "You do you, boo."

 _"Oh god, don't ever say that again."_ Isaac says.

They wrap up the call pretty quickly after that. Isaac actually has some studying to do and Boyd, Peter, and Erica need to go open up the shop. Stiles isn't sure when his dad is going to call and he doesn't want to sit all day stewing in it, so he goes with. Peter is fairly efficient at distracting him from the impending doom by going over new tattoo ideas and protection designs from his witch friend, David.

"He thinks he might be able to put a guardian spell on the tattoo ink," Peter tells him. They're in the back room as the sketch table, flipping through drawings. 

"A what?" Stiles asks.

"It'd be a guardian for you, or whoever it's on," Peter explains. "Say I tattoo a wolf on you with that ink. That wolf would be able to temporarily leap from your body and protect you from harm."

"Shut the front door!" Stiles says. "That's possible?"

"He thinks so. He doesn't know for how long or to what extent, but even if it's just a shadow of the animal to act as a distraction, that would be enough," Peter says.

"Why's he telling you? No offense, I know you're ‘friends’ and all, but he doesn't exactly seem like the type to share information without a caveat," Stiles says.

"And people say you're just a pretty face," Peter says, patting Stiles' cheek. Stiles squawks indignantly. "You're right. He wants me to try it on him."

"What, seriously? He wants to be your magic tattoo guinea pig?" Stiles asks.

"His familiar passed recently and I believe he's feeling that loss," Peter says. 

"What was his familiar?" Stiles asks curiously.

"An owl," Peter says.

"I'm trying really hard to bite back Harry Potter jokes, just so you know," Stiles says.

"Well, she was known to gouge people's eyes out," Peter says. "So unless Hedwig did that..."

"Uh, nope, can't say she did," Stiles says. "Wait, you've read Harry Potter?"

"Of course, I'm not a heathen," Peter says. "If the guardian works on David, I want you to consider letting me do it to you."

"Why?" Stiles asks. He knows Peter's always happy to tattoo him, a mix between the love of his job and his love of seeing his mark on Stiles, so it's not too much of a shock, but Stiles has always gotten the impression that Peter isn't the biggest fan of magic. Then again, Peter had gotten the medallion and hex bags from David to protect Stiles, so maybe he's wrong. 

"I don't dislike magic," Peter says, as if reading Stiles' mind. "I just don't trust it in the wrong hands. If it adds protection to you, I'm more than okay with that."

"Aw, you softie," Stiles says, nudging Peter in the side.

"Get off," Peter grumbles, half-heartedly pushing Stiles away. "I have to finish the sketch for this, go bug Erica."

"Sure thing, chicken wing," Stiles says. Peter just rolls his eyes. 

Boyd is waiting for his client to come in and he and Erica are talking in low voices at his station, so Stiles decides not to bother them and instead parks himself at the front desk. He plays around on his phone for a while, adds a few things to the shop's Instagram, when his phone rings in his hands. He jumps, nearly drops the damn thing, and his hands shake a bit when he sees it's his dad. He thinks about letting it go to voicemail, his dad would deserve it, but he'd promised his dad could call, damn it.

"Hi," Stiles says. 

_"Hey, kid,"_ the sheriff says. 

Boyd and Erica look up and over at him at the sound of his dad's voice. Stiles stands and walks out the front door, wanting to avoid an audience for this if he can. He walks a little down the sidewalk and leans against the wall between Peter's shop and the bank next door.

"Everyone at Jungle okay?"

_"A few were hit, but none are critical, thankfully."_

"Good," Stiles says.

There's silence for a long moment, neither of them sure what to say. Stiles refuses to be the one to break the silence, as much as he normally abhors them. He isn't the one who caused the problem, so he refuses to be the one that reaches out to fix it.

 _"I'm so sorry, kid,"_ the sheriff says with a sigh.

"Sorry that you disrespected your son's relationship, that you helped a homophobic bigot target her daughter, or that you completely disregarded my happiness based on what _you_ think I should do?" Stiles asks.

_"Hell, I'm sorry for all of it. I didn't realize Heather's mom was like that."_

"Come on dad, you're the sheriff. You're better than that."

 _"I didn't want to think too much into it,"_ the sheriff admits. _"It seemed like a good solution to my problem."_

"That's the thing. You think of me and Peter as a 'problem'," Stiles says. 

_"I didn't mean it like that,"_ the sheriff says quickly.

"Yeah? Then how did you mean it?"

_"It's normal for a parent to be concerned about the age difference in their kid's relationship."_

"Okay, A. The normal thing to do would be to talk to your son about it, not try to force him to cheat on his partner."

_"I didn't - "_

"B. This is a garbage job at an apology, and C. It's a bit hypocritical seeing as mom was my age when you two met and you were older," Stiles says.

There's silence on the line. Stiles would worry if he'd gone too far, but he doesn't care. His mom would have understood, he _knows_ she would have. His mom loved his dad with everything she was, and she would understand her son loving the same way, just as passionately.

 _"Our age difference wasn't as big as yours and Peter's,"_ the sheriff says, like he can't help but argue. Stiles scoffs, ready to snap back, but the sheriff continues. _"But you're right. I shouldn't have done what I did. I'm sorry."_

"You don't have to like my relationship, though I wish you would," Stiles says. He's choking on his words, blinking fast. "But you do have to respect it. I am in an adult relationship. Neither of us is abusive. We love each other. There is no reason for your involvement."

 _"I wasn't trying to drive you away, Stiles,"_ the sheriff says. _"Please come home."_

"No," Stiles says, shaking his head and blinking furiously to push back the tears. "No, I'm staying at Peter's, probably permanently. I'll come by this week to pick up some of my stuff."

 _"If...if that's what you need,"_ the sheriff says carefully, like he's finally trying to respect Stiles' boundaries. Good. 

"I do," Stiles says firmly. 

_"Would you stay for lunch when you come?"_ the sheriff asks hesitantly. _"I could order from that Thai place you like. Peter is welcome, too."_ The sheriff's voice is odd over Peter's name, but he's trying, Stiles reluctantly has to give him that.

"Maybe," Stiles says. "Probably. Just, look. I'm still really, really mad at you. I'm going to be mad for a long time. But I still love you, okay?"

 _"I know,"_ the sheriff says with a sigh. _"I love you, too, kid."_

"I'll talk to you later," Stiles says. He hangs up before his dad can say anything else, too exhausted by the conversation to keep going. 

Stile is just so _tired_. He's tired of having to be the adult between him and his dad. He's tired of having to defend all his choices. He's really fucking tired of people shitting on Peter. He's just _tired._ He lets his head thunk back against the wall, then winces when it hits because yeah, the building's brick, awesome. He wishes he'd brought his jacket because it's almost winter and yeah they're in California, but it's northern and it gets fucking chilly sometimes. He's considering the merits of going back inside when the shop door opens and Erica pokes her head out. She sees him, calls something back inside, and comes out, walking down the street until she's next to him.

Erica doesn't say anything, doesn't try to drag him inside, and that's one of the things Stiles loves about her. Yeah she can be loud and pushy, but so can he. The difference is she seems to know when it leave well enough alone. So she just eyes him for a minute before pulling him into a hug. Stiles sags against her, wrapping his arms around her back. Erica's good at a lot a things, but she's great at hugs. She wraps her arms tightly, enough that the person being hugged feels secure, but not trapped. She lets them bury their face in her shoulder and doesn't force them to talk about it. She's warm, that supernaturally hot body temperature all werewolves seem to have. Ten out of ten, would hug again, Stiles thinks. He burrows in closer, siphoning off the warmth she gives.

"Ready to go in?" she asks after a few minutes.

Stiles sighs dramatically but nods.

"Yeah, I guess," he says.

"Peter and Boyd both have clients so we can just sit in the back and order pizza," she suggests.

"Man, if we were single," Stiles says with a wink.

Erica laughs.

"Honey, you wouldn't know what to do with me," she says.

"That is too fucking true."

Erica and Stiles sit in the back for a long time, both Peter and Boyd having clients. They play an online trivia game with Isaac, who they shun after he wins ( _PAY ATTENTION TO YOUR TEACHER_ ) before Erica's client comes in and she actually has to do work. Peter pops back a few minutes after Erica goes out front to find Stiles sitting upside down on the couch, his feet in the air and his head hanging off the edge. Peter raises an eyebrow.

"I kind of invited myself to live with you," Stiles says. He's sure his face is red from being upside down for so long.

"Did you now?" Peter asks.

"That okay? I mean I know you already told me I'm welcome and all but I just want to be sure," Stiles says.

"I don't know, what would my mistress say?" Peter says mock serious. Stiles kicks out at him and almost topples over off the couch. "Okay, time to sit up."

Stiles takes Peter's offered hand and lets the other man pull him up. 

"Wow, opposite of a head rush, whoa," Stiles says, shaking his head. Peter just rolls his eyes fondly. "My dad also kind of invited us to lunch?"

"Did he now?" Peter asks.

"Well, I told him I'll be by to pick up some stuff and he asked if I could stay for lunch. And he said you're welcome to come," Stiles says. Peter seems to be trying valiantly not to roll his eyes. 

"Do you want me to go?" Peter asks.

"Yes. Maybe. I don't know," Stiles says.

"Well that clears that up."

"Well I always want you with me," Stiles says with a shrug, and smiles at how simple things like that just seem to make Peter light up. "But I don't know how awkward it would be for you guys, you know?"

"Would my being there make it better or worse?" Peter asks.

"I don't think it would make a difference, really. We'll probably argue either way, and I don't want my dad to say anything bad about you," Stiles says.

Peter smiles softly. He takes Stiles' hand tugs him in, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"Your concern for my feelings is sweet, but unnecessary. Would you feel better if I went?" Peter asks.

"Yes," Stiles says.

"Then I'll go," Peter says.

"Are you sure? You don't have t-"

"I don't have to do anything," Peter says. "But I want to, okay?"

"Okay," Stiles says. He snuggles into Peter's arms, huffing amused when Peter rubs his cheek over the top of Stiles' head. "You big softie."

"Don't tell the others," Peter says.

"Oh they know. They saw your Valentine’s Day card from last year."

Peter groans.


	5. Chapter 5

David, Peter's witch friend, makes the trip down to Beacon Hills later that week. He greets Peter and Stiles both with a hug, which surprises Stiles a bit. He's only met the man a few times and both times he'd been very professional. But then again, Stiles supposes tattoos can be an emotional experience for some. Instead of the three piece suit Stiles had been expecting, David is dressed down in simple jeans and a button down and he looks just as good in it as he does dressed up. If Stiles weren't in a relationship and didn't love the shit out of Peter, he'd jump that so fast.

"Hello, Stiles," David says. "Still wearing the amulet?"

"Yep," Stiles says. He pulls out the little medallion that is always around his neck, showing David. "Don't even take it off to shower. With my luck, that's when a rouge harpy or some shit would attack me."

Erica had given Stiles so much shit when she'd noticed he always wears a necklace, but when he explained that it's a supernatural protectant, that it'll keep him from being turned if he's attacked, she demanded that he wear it at all times. She still calls him a tool, though.

"Undoubtedly," David agrees. "So you work here as well?"

"Nah, I just watch the front desk. Peter, Boyd, and Erica are the worker bees," Stiles says.

"Working the front desk is work," David says, like Stiles is being dense on purpose.

"Don't bother with trying to convince him," Peter says with an eye roll. "I've been trying for months to get him to accept a damn paycheck for his work. Shall we?"

David follows Peter back to his room, giving Stiles a little wave. Stiles huffs but tries not to dwell on the longstanding argument between him and Peter over Stiles working at the shop. They're currently closed, David coming during the off hours in case there's any magical residue that the average citizen would notice.

It takes longer than usual for Peter to finish David's owl. Stiles suspects it's because of the bewitched ink. Stiles spends his time fucking around with the shop's Instagram or writing. Hours later, David comes out shirtless (hot damn) to look in the full length mirror. The owl is extremely realistic, feathers the exact same shade and pattern as the picture provided, and David looks immensely pleased. He mutters a few words under his breath then the owl is literally taking flight off his body. Stiles jumps in shock. The owl isn't quite solid, but it isn't transparent either as it glides around the room, sharp amber eyes taking in everything before fading back into David's skin. It's fully healed when it appears again, solid on David's chest.

"Dude," Stiles say, jaw hanging open. "How did you do that?"

"I told you what a guardian tattoo is, Stiles," Peter says, amused.

"Yeah, but seeing it is totally different! And instant tattoo healing?" Stiles asks.

"It's a simple healing spell," David says as if magically healing an open wound is a totally normal occurrence. Hell, for him, maybe it is. "What do I owe you?"

"It's on the house," Peter says. "I would like to discuss buying some ink off of you for a guardian for Stiles."

"A trade, then," David says. "Send me the details, I'll get you what you need."

David pulls his shirt back on, more's the pity, and heads out. He tips Peter generously anyway, because he's a gentleman thank you very much. Peter looks extremely excited, like a kid who's had too much candy.

"What's up with you?" Stiles asks.

"I just did a magical tattoo, Stiles," Peter says.

"And that makes you giddy?" Stiles asks with a laugh.

"I just saw my art flying around the room," Peter says. "I am absolutely high on endorphins."

"Wanna do something with those endorphins?" Stiles asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

"I'd love to," Peter purrs, pulling Stiles to him by the hips and nudging their noses together. "But we have to be at your dad's for lunch and to pick up for stuff in a half hour."

"You'd be surprised what I can do in that time," Stiles says, winking.

"Not surprised at all," Peter drawls.

"Hey!"

Stiles isn't thrilled about lunch with his dad. He's still pissed, rightfully so, but he also wants to be able to get over this. And he knows it's a step in the right direction to be able to civilly eat lunch with his dad and his boyfriend, but still. Stiles is ready to walk out if his dad makes one disparaging remark about Peter. 

They arrive before the sheriff is home, giving them enough time to pack up a few boxes of Stiles' stuff and pack them up in the SUV they borrowed from Derek. Stiles is expecting some sadness, or maybe some nostalgia for the past and all the growing up nonsense, but right now, he's just happy to be moving forward. He's moving in with a boyfriend who loves him. Other shit in his life might be up in the air, but he solidly has Peter.

The sheriff arrives just as they're putting the last of the boxes in the trunk. He makes a face, but doesn't say anything. Stiles holds himself back from commenting. The sheriff doesn't offer to help them load the last boxes and Stiles and Peter don't ask. 

Stiles doesn't feel like fighting his dad over his diet today, especially since they're all on edge as it is, so he lets his dad order Thai food. It'll be a bit before the food arrives, so his dad puts on a college football game and sits in the living room. Stiles dithers in the kitchen, getting a glass of water, then drinking the glass of water, then refilling the glass of water. Asking Peter if he needs water.

"Stiles," Peter says, putting his hands on Stiles' shoulders.

Stiles grabs Peter's wrists and sighs, letting the other man's touch ground him. Peter's wearing a short sleeved v-neck today, showing off the colorful sleeves that run up and down his strong arms. He'd offered to wear a long sleeved shirt for Stiles' dad's comfort, but Stiles had firmly put his foot down. Stiles is proud of who he's dating, proud of who Peter is, and refuses to let him hide any of himself away for the selfish comfort of others.

"I know," Stiles says with a sigh. "It'll be fine."

"And if it's not, we can go have athletic sex in Derek's mom SUV," Peter says.

Stiles snorts as laugh and tugs Peter in, gently kissing him before pulling back.

"Fine, let's go," he says grudgingly and follows Peter into the living room. 

The sheriff is sitting in the recliner next to the couch and Peter makes sure to sit on the other end of the couch, putting as much room between them as possible. Stiles is having none of it and all but drags Peter to the middle so he's by the other man's side. The corner of the sheriff's mouth twitches and Stiles can't tell if it's because he wants to laugh or frown. He doesn't have it in him to give the benefit of the doubt so he decides to just ignore it.

"UW is spanking Oregon," Stiles says conversationally, glancing at the TV.

"Yep," the sheriff says. "They, uh, their quarterback looks good for a Heisman this years if he keeps it up."

"Yeah, he's pretty good. He kinda looks like Isaac," Stiles says. "But you know how the voting goes. They don't bother with west coast teams much."

"No they don't," the sheriff says.

It's one of the most stilted conversations he's had with his dad, including the worst sex talk ever. Peter is looking at Stiles like he's grown a second head, apparently unaware that Stiles knows sports. Peter says nothing, also apparently content to let Stiles and the sheriff flounder on their own. Stiles elbows him, but Peter just raises an eyebrow.

"Peter did a magical tattoo today," Stiles says.

"Oh?" the sheriff says, his face blank.

"Yeah," Stiles says. "It's like a magical guardian that can fly off your skin and protect you."

The sheriff looks more intrigued at that, though it seems like it pains him. 

"Really? On you?" he asks.

"Not yet," Stiles says. "A friend of his."

"It's something I asked Stiles to consider," Peter says, done with being talked about like he isn't in the room. "But of course, I will respect the choices he chooses to make in his life."

"Okay," Stiles says hastily, seeing a way this could get nasty quickly. "Let's respect Stiles' choice to move this conversation in a different direction."

"Of course," Peter says with a nod of his head. The sheriff looks like he's swallowed a lemon but he moves on.

Things go better after that, the conversation staying light, until the sheriff brings up Stiles' career. 

"Any leads on a job yet?" the sheriff asks.

Stiles groans and lets his head fall back onto Peter's arm, which is still wrapped around his shoulders. He knows his dad means well, as all parents do when they harp on the topic, but all it does it further show him that he graduated college months ago and still hasn't gotten a job in his field. 

"Still no," Stiles says with forced cheerfulness.

"It's been a few months," the sheriff says.

"Sure has, can we change the subject?"

"We can't just change the subject whenever a topic gets uncomfortable," the sheriff says.

"Oh, we certainly can, that's the point of conversations," Stiles says.

"Are you still working for free?" the sheriff asks, referring to Peter's shop. 

Stiles bristles a bit. 

"Meaning?"

"I've been trying to get him to accept a paycheck, but he won't," Peter says. "I'm not taking advantage of him."

"Can we not have this conversation here?" Stiles says to Peter.

"Well shit, what _can_ we talk about, Stiles?" the sheriff asks.

"The weather," Stiles says flatly. "What chance the Mets have in the playoffs this year. Basically, you not butting into my life. You fucked up that opportunity."

The sheriff sighs and raises his hands.

"So. The Mets."

Stiles and Peter don't stay too long after that, saying they need to get Stiles' stuff moved in. The sheriff and Stiles share a stiff hug and he gives Peter a curt nod. Peter returns it and Stiles is impressed that the man manages not to roll his eyes.

"Well, that wasn't a _complete_ disaster," Stiles says as Peter pulls onto the road.

"At least he agrees with me that you should get paid for the work you do," Peter says.

"You aren't supposed to agree with him about that!" Stiles says. 

"You're working and deserve to be paid for it," Peter says.

"It would feel too much like charity," Stiles says.

"You are always saying that we create a product, we deserve to be paid for it, yes?" 

"Yeah?"

"You're doing us a service, do you not deserve to be paid for it?" 

"It's different!" Stiles insists.

"How?" 

"I _like_ being there!" 

"So? Most people want to like their job," Peter says.

"Still!" Stiles says.

"Excellent argument," Peter says dryly.

"Shut up," Stiles says grumpily. Peter just snorts.

Stiles sulks the whole way home, bitter that what Peter said actually has merit to it. He's right, he does always say people who work deserve to be paid for it. And he knows Peter's stance on unpaid internships and that's basically what Stiles is doing, forcing himself to work for free. 

"I want minimum wage," Stiles says when they start unloading boxes.

"No," Peter says. "Minimum wage isn't livable for cost of living in the area. I start at $15 an hour."

"Peter," Stiles whines. "I already live with you and you do the whole provider thing..."

"So we'll divide responsibilities more," Peter says with a shrug. "We can break up bills, change who does groceries each week."

"You're serious," Stiles says.

"Absolutely," Peter says. "Whatever you're comfortable with."

"Fuck, I love you," Stiles says, dropping the box of his clothes and throwing his arms around Peter. Peter hugs him back, kissing the side of his head as he does. "I just...thanks for putting up with my young person existential crisis about the future."

"I know you don't want to discuss it now, but if you ever do want to have the career discussion, I'm here," Peter says.

"You and my dad, oh my god," Stiles whines. He kisses Peter though. "I still love you."

"I should hope so."

The thing is, Stiles has no idea what he wants to do. His degree in computer science can honestly only go so far in a town like Beacon Hills. He's always liked writing, but everyone wants to write a book, why the hell should his be special? Though honestly, he kind of has a paranormal romance in mind that would put Laurell K. Hamilton to shame, but is it worth writing? Is it worth committing that much of his time to something that people will probably never read? And he doesn't want to move to a bigger city to use his degree. He has no doubt that Peter and he would try to make it work, but he's more invested in his relationship that in coding for some huge company. Maybe that's codependent and unhealthy of him, but he doesn't care. Peter and the pack make him happy and everything else can just fuck off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Doesn't Jake Browning in his helmet look like Isaac??


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so behind on this, I know, I'm sorry!

Stiles has officially been working for Peter for two weeks when David's package of ink arrives. Stiles eagerly opens it and his jaw drops. Not only did he send enough ink for Stiles' tattoo, but easily enough for Peter, Boyd, Isaac, and Erica, too. Peter takes the note and raises his eyebrows.

"What'd he say?" Stiles asks.

"That he'd like an official alliance with my pack and this is a good faith offer," Peter says, sounding more shocked than Stiles has ever heard.

"But that's good, right?" Stiles asks.

"Yes," Peter says slowly. "But normally, witches of David's caliber don't align themselves with packs. Or if they do, they go to older, more established packs. Like Talia's."

"Yeah, but he knows you, right? You just tattooed his dead familiar on him," Stiles says. "I'm pretty sure that endeared you to him more than before."

"Yeah," Peter says absently, rereading the letter. 

"So what do we do next? Is there an answering overture we have to send?" Stiles asks.

"We could send him a gift back, but David has never been one for those kinds of rituals, he tends to stick with the magical ones," Peter says. 

"So we just accept?" Stiles asks.

"I need to ask the pack first for their opinion, but yes," Peter says, still sounding surprised. 

"Don't be so shocked," Stiles says, nudging Peter's elbow. "You're a good alpha. It doesn't take a genius to notice it."

Peter smiles at Stiles and kisses him lightly, reluctantly pulling back when the shop bell rings. Stiles turns to the interruption, a young woman, with a smile.

"Boyd's 3:00, right?" Stiles asks. "Claire?"

"That's me," the girl says cheerily. 

Peter's phone goes off and he glances down at it.

"Isaac," he explains and head off to the back to take it.

Stiles hands Claire the paperwork, ignoring his own buzzing phone. It'll go to voicemail. His phone buzzes again when he goes to copy her ID, but he still ignores it.

"You gonna get that?" Claire asks when he hands her back her ID.

"I wasn't planning on it," Stiles says, glancing at the still vibrating phone with Scott's name showing. "But I probably should." 

Stiles shouts to Boyd that his appointment is here and walks to the back room to find Peter frowning, in deep conversation with Isaac on the phone. Before Stiles can ask what's going on, his phone starts buzzing again.

"Scott, dude, what's up?" Stiles asks.

_"Did you know?"_ Scott asks.

"Did I know what...?" Stiles asks.

_"Don't fucking play dumb with me, Stiles,"_ Scott snaps and Stiles startles at Scott so casually dropping the f-bomb. _"Did you know about Isaac?"_

"About Isaac going out with you guys?" Stiles asks. "Yeah, dude, he talked to me about - "

_"About Isaac being a_ werewolf, _Stiles!"_

Stiles freezes.

"Um..."

_"I'm going to take that as a yes,"_ Scott snaps.

"Scott, how did...what...how did you find out?" Stiles asks.

_"How could you not tell me? I've been one of your best friends since like 1st grade!"_

"It's not my secret to tell," Stiles says. "Look, just calm down dude, I'll answer whatever questions you have."

_"Don't tell me to calm down! You and Derek have been lying to me for years!"_

Stiles' heart sinks. "You know about Derek?"

Because that means...

_"Yeah, I know about Derek. That means Peter's one too, right? And Erica and Boyd, how you guys all hang out together, they're werewolves too!"_

"Scott, just listen - "

_"Fuck off,"_ Scott snarls. _"I don't want to talk to you, any of you. Don't call me, don't text me. Leave me alone."_

"Scott, wait - " But the line is dead. Stiles tries to call Scott back and it goes straight to voicemail. Stiles groans and throws his phone onto the couch. He turns to look at Peter, who's just hanging up. 

"Isaac is coming home for a few days," Peter says.

"I take it you heard what Scott said?"

"The gist of it," Peter says. "Isaac was having sex with Scott and Allison. He got overwhelmed and his eyes changed."

"Shit," Stiles says.

"Scott freaked out, then freaked out more when Allison didn't freak out. And Derek ran in because of the screaming with his claws out, so Scott freaked out more," Peter says. "He doesn't want anything to do with Isaac, Allison, or Derek."

"Well that's too bad since he lives with Isaac and Derek," Stiles says.

"That's what Derek said," Peter says. "Isaac is taking a few days off of school, but eventually he's going to have to go back."

"Yeah, shit," Stiles says, running a hand down his face. "Is Isaac okay?"

"Not particularly. His bus leaves in a few hours so he'll be back late tonight," Peter says. "Not a great way to end things with his first relationship."

"They may make it," Stiles says.

"Right," Peter says with an eye roll.

"Scott will calm down," Stiles says. "He gets really mad at first, but once he thinks about it, he'll realize why we can't just go and tell everyone werewolves are real."

"Funnily enough, he didn't even seem to care much about him being a werewolf as much as being lied to," Peter says.

"He wasn't _lied_ to, he just...wasn't informed," Stiles says.

"I love it when you talk morally grey to me," Peter snarks. 

"That's great. Rocky with my dad, fighting with Scott, all I need now is for you to dump me," Stiles says.

"Not happening," Peter says, tugging Stiles over to him. "You're stuck with me now."

"I better be," Stiles grumbles, but snuggles into Peter's hold.

They close up shop early, as soon as Boyd is done tattooing a memorial piece on Claire, to head back to the house. Erica and Boyd stop at the grocery store to pick up Isaac's favorite comfort foods and Peter makes the lasagna he loves. Stiles pulls out all the blankets and piles them on the floor by the fireplace so they can all cuddle puddle when Isaac gets there. Peter drives to the station alone to pick up Isaac in case he needs to talk. It talks a little longer than normal for them to get back, but Stiles isn't worried, pretty sure that Isaac just needed some time alone with Peter before seeing everyone. 

Stiles has never wanted to hit Scott before, but when Isaac comes in with red-rimmed eyes, Stiles kind of wants to pound him. Isaac's shoulders are slumped and his eyes are red and puffy and Erica immediately makes a wounded noise in the back of her throat and goes to him, wrapping him up in her arms. Isaac lets out a sob, then Boyd is there, and Peter. Stiles hustles over and manages to worm a hand in between the bodies to rest on Isaac's back.

"You should eat something," Peter murmurs, petting Isaac's hair. 

Isaac makes a muffled noise of disagreement but Peter insists, steering Isaac to the pile of blankets and pillows Stiles had set up earlier. Isaac grumbles but is more than happy to let Erica and Boyd curl up beside him. Stiles ruffles his hair as he walks by to help Peter in the kitchen. When they get back, trays full of food, Isaac's face is buried in Erica's neck and Boyd is rubbing his back. 

"That's certainly a fun way to come out of the werewolf closet and end my first relationship," Isaac mutters, taking a slice of the lasagna. No one knows what to say, so they say nothing, just stay with Isaac and give him the silent reassurance and touch he needs.

Isaac doesn't feel like being alone the next day, so he comes into the shop with Peter, Boyd, Erica, and Isaac. He's depressed, as Stiles expects him to be, but he seems to find pleasure in helping Erica pester Stiles into getting a piercing.

"You are _not_ piercing my belly button!" Stiles says.

"Nipples," Isaac suggests.

"No!" Stiles says, his hands flying to his chest. "I've heard what your clients have said, that shit hurts!"

"Sure does," Erica says. "Worth it, though. Boyd loves them."

"Sure do," Boyd calls over across the empty studio.

Stiles gets a bit of a reprieve with Erica's next customer comes in, but it picks right back up with, "Prince Albert?"

"You are never getting near my junk."

"At least let me do the ears? Come on, you've said you want to gauge them," Erica says.

"Maybe, okay?" Stiles says. Erica cheers. "That's a very soft maybe!"

"That's as good as a yes," Isaac says. "You gave Erica an inch."

"Fuck." 

They do their best to distract Isaac throughout the day, making sure to order from his favorite restaurant for lunch and making sure he isn't alone for too long, but they can't be there the whole time and eventually, Erica, Boyd, and Peter all have clients at the same time, and Stiles gets busy at the front desk. That happens to be when Isaac gets a call and steps outside. He's out there for a bit, but Stiles is busy scheduling appointments and taking calls, so he can't go look after him. When it's been close to a half hour and Stiles is starting to get worried, Isaac finally comes back in. He looks a little shaken, but not too bad so Stiles is pretty sure it wasn't Scott who called.

"That was Allison," Isaac says when Stiles is free. "She wants to come down to talk. I told her I have to ask Peter."

Stiles doesn't envy him that.

It's later that night when they're all back at Peter's house that Isaac brings it up to Peter. He asks in front of the whole pack, whether it's because he's scared of being yelled at or what, Stiles isn't sure. Peter looks at him for a long time, then sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I have to check with Talia since it's her territory, too," Peter says. "She doesn't come here, I don't want her knowing where the pack house is."

"Okay," Isaac says, nodding quickly.

"And I want to meet her," Peter says. Isaac's face falls. "What?" Peter asks.

"You're going to do your alpha glare and try to scare her off," Isaac says glumly.

"I will not," Peter says, sounding offended. "I want to meet the girl my beta is dating, especially considering she has hunting roots."

"How about I go too?" Stiles suggests. "I've known her for a bit, I can introduce Peter and then he and I can go for a walk while you talk."

"Yeah?" Isaac asks hopefully.

Peter looks like he wants to groan, but he says, "Fine, we'll do that."

"I'm going to go call her and let her know. Tomorrow night?" Isaac asks.

"Tomorrow night is fine. You know you're going back up to school in two days," Peter says.

"She wanted to talk before then," Isaac says with a shrug and leaves the room.

"Why they can't just talk on the phone..." Peter grumbles.

"Come on," Stiles says, nudging Peter. "When I was in college if you had the option to see me face-to-face, we always chose that over a phone call."

"That's different," Peter says stubbornly.

"Why, because it's not us?" Stiles asks. "Who knows, maybe Allison is Isaac's soulmate."

Peter's face softens and Stiles immediately blushes, thinking about what he'd just said.

"You think we're soulmates?" Peter asks.

"I didn't say that," Stiles mumbles, but Peter is smiling softly and kissing his cheek, then nose, then lips.

"Gross," Erica says, grabbing Boyd's hand and dragging him from the room. "We're going to go bang now because you are disgusting!"

Peter completely ignores them, instead focusing on Stiles, tracing the curve of Stiles' jaw, kissing him softly.

"I love you," Peter says. "I'm okay with you saying we're soulmates."

Stiles is still flushed by he smiles back. 

"I love you, too," Stiles says, nuzzling at Peter's jaw in the way he knows the man loves.

The break apart when the sound of Erica's squeaking bed is too much.

-

After they close up the shop the next night, they head to a local coffee house to meet Allison. Isaac is still nervous about Peter meeting Allison, and to be honest, Stiles is a bit, too. How do you introduce someone as the niece of the woman who tried to burn your family alive? Allison seems prepared though, because as soon as they walk in the door, she waves them over to a small table she's sitting at. They weave through the crowded cafe until they get to her, Isaac immediately wrapping her in his arms and hugging her close. Allison closes her eyes, arms going around Isaac and sighing into his embrace. They only break apart when Stiles coughs loudly.

"Sorry," Allison says, blushing slightly. She holds out her hand to Peter while subtly turning her head to the side, baring her neck. "I'm Allison," she says.

"I'm Peter, Isaac's alpha," Peter says, quiet enough that the surrounding tables can't hear.

Allison nods. 

"I need you to know that my father and I have no contact with the rest of our family. He has taught me to take care of myself, but we aren't like them," Allison says.

Peter's face does something complicated that's too fast for Stiles to catch, before nodding and saying, "I'm glad to hear it."

Stiles steps forward and pulls Allison into a hug and Peter's face definitely spasms a bit there. Stiles pats Peter's arm and says, "Come on, let's let them talk." Stiles drags Peter away to a table at the opposite side of the coffee house. Even though Peter will still be able to hear every word, it's the nice semblance of privacy.

Stiles gets them drinks (he gets Peter a hot chocolate because even though Peter insists he likes black coffee, Stiles knows he's a dirty little liar and has a huge sweet tooth). Peter glares at him, but drinks anyway. Stiles tries to engage Peter in conversation, but Peter's so obviously eavesdropping that there's no point in try to talk to him. Stiles just stares dully out the window for a bit before giving in and asking Peter what they're talking about. What? He's shameless, he'll admit it. 

"Allison is telling him that she likes him independent of Scott," Peter says quietly. "That she still wants to see him even if Scott stays mad at them and wants out. That she likes him on his own."

"That's good, go Isaac," Stiles says.

"Yeah," Peter says.

Stiles glances over Peter's shoulder at Allison and Isaac's table. Allison is all sunshine and dimples and Stiles can tell Peter really wants to hate her, but is having trouble with it.

"It's okay to kind of like her," Stiles says.

"I don't like her," Peter says. "I just don't dislike her."

"Uh huh," Stiles says and goes back to his latte. 

Allison kisses Isaac when they leave. Isaac is cheerier than they've seen him the whole way home.

-

Isaac goes back to school after the weekend is over. He Skypes that night, looking miserable. 

_"Scott won't come out of his room except to use the bathroom and get food. Derek says he's been like this since I left,"_ Isaac says. _"He won't even look at me."_

"Scott can really get his undies in a twist sometimes," Stiles says. "I'm not defending him, he's acting like a dick, but he'll calm down eventually."

_"Allison wants to come over to talk to him, but I don't think that'll go well,"_ Isaac says. _"Derek might try to sit him down and talk to him, but I don't think it's a smart idea."_

Stiles agrees with Isaac on that. As much as Scott thinks the sun shines out of Allison's ass, when he's this angry, it really is best to leave him alone. He and Stiles have only really fought like this twice and Stiles learned quickly after the first time that pestering him is not the way to go. It's like trying to get though to a cornered animal, all they'll do is lash out.

"Look, let Scott calm down. You can't change anyone else's mind. Just enjoy your life as best you can, spend time with Allison, and try not to let Scott bother you," Erica says. "I know it's a tall order."

"And we'll come and beat him up if you need us to," Boyd says.

"You will not," Stiles says. "He may be acting like a dumbass, but he's still one of my best friends."

Erica makes a scoffing noise but doesn't argue more. Stiles appreciates it. More and more he's wondering how exactly to deal with Scott. He can understand Scott's point, he really can. But werewolves existing isn't exactly his secret to tell. He wonders if this is finally the straw the broke the camel's back and if Scott is done with him for good.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So AO3 ate this at first so this is a rewrite...so it's not as good as it was originally. Oops.

Erica somehow manages to get Stiles to sit still long enough to pierce his ears and Jesus Christ, that hurts. He doesn't understand how people do this for fun, but Erica, who's recently gotten her vertical labret, assures him that it gets addicting, just like tattoos.

"And as soon as they heal, we can start to gauge them!" she says excitedly. 

"You're a torturer!" Stiles says. 

"Make sure to clean them," Erica warns. "We live in the same house, I'll know if you don't."

Stiles makes a face at her but promises. The last thing he wants is an infection; he'd like to avoid even more pain to the area.

"Stop fidgeting with them," Peter says, slapping Stiles' hand away from his ear. They're in the car on the way to Stiles' dad's house for dinner and Stiles just can't stop touching them.

"I'm sorry!" Stiles stays. "They're just new and easy to play with."

Peter takes Stiles' hand.

"Play with my hand instead," he says.

"Yes, Dad," Stiles mutters, but he does start to toy with Peter's fingers.

Stiles manages to keep his hands away from his ears during the short drive from the shop to his dad's house by playing with the fingers on Peter's hands, but as soon as he gets out of the car, his hand almost jumps to his ear again.

"Erica will kill you if you get those infected," Peter reminds him. 

Stiles sticks out his tongue at Peter, but knows he's right, damn it. They walk into Stiles' dad's house hand-in-hand. Stiles calls out to his dad but doesn't get an answer. Frowning, he walks further into the house, making his way to the kitchen. He freezes in the doorway, Peter bumping into his back. His dad is sitting at the table, a bottle of whiskey next to him and a glass in his hand. It's an unwelcome sight that he hasn't seen in years.

"Dad," Stiles says slowly. "What's going on?"

"I fucked up, kid," the sheriff says with a sigh.

A million things go through Stiles' head. His dad is hurt, he made a mistake on a case, he had to shoot someone, the list goes on. Peter places a comforting hand on the small of Stiles' back and it helps Stiles to steel himself and walk further into the room. He and Peter take a seat at the table, across from the sheriff.

"What do you mean?" Stiles asks.

"I ran into Heather's mom today," the sheriff says and Stiles stiffens at the mention on Mrs. Johnson. "She was going on and on about how she hates Heather's girlfriend, how it isn't right and unnatural. She kept saying how Heather could do so much better and I realized I sound just like her."

"Dad, you're not - "

"I'm just as bad. I've missed out on some of my son's life because I couldn't see past my own prejudices," the sheriff says.

"Dad, you're not a homophobe like she is," Stiles says, wanting to make sure that at least they're on the same page as to why Stiles is mad.

"I know I'm not," the sheriff says heavily. "But I still put my nose into something that's none of my business and hurt you. I hurt you, my son, the one I love more than anything on this earth."

Stiles doesn't know what to say to that.

"You know what the real kicker is?" the sheriff asks. "I sat down and really thought about why I don't like Peter and you know what? I couldn't think of a damn thing."

"Really? Not even his bad driving record?" Stiles jokes weakly.

The sheriff chuckles.

"Kid, the only reason your driving record isn't worse is the department has a collective soft spot for you," the sheriff says, before sobering. "I don't dislike anything about Peter other than he's with my kid and older. And that's not acceptable of me."

"It's not," Stiles says quietly.

"I'm so sorry, kid. I didn't understand before," the sheriff says. "I do now. I know Peter loves you. I know your relationship is happy, I just let my blinders get in the way."

"Yeah," Stiles says softly. 

"And I'm sorry, Peter. I don't hate you. You're smart, you've got your life together, you treat Stiles well. I'm not sorry for wanting that for him, but I'm sorry for not seeing he already had it," the sheriff says.

"I appreciate you saying that," Peter says.

"I'm, fuck, I'm so, so sorry, Stiles," the sheriff says. "Can you - can we get to a place where you can forgive me?"

Stiles glances at Peter, who gives him an encouraging nod, before getting up and all but running around the table to hug his dad.

"Of course I can," Stiles says into his dad's shoulder. "I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you, too, kid," the sheriff says, voice thick. 

Peter carefully takes the whiskey bottle and puts it back in the liquor cabinet while father and son hug. Stiles mouths 'thank you' over his shoulder when Peter grabs the tumbler too and sets it in the sink. Peter nods back. 

"And you, Peter?" the sheriff asks when he and Stiles separate. "Can you forgive an old man's horrible mistake?"

"I can," Peter says, offering a hand. The sheriff shakes it gratefully, one hand on Peter's shoulder. 

Stiles is trying very, very hard not to cry. No one feels much like cooking, so they order out. Stiles even lets his dad has pizza, he's so happy. Occasionally the sheriff's face will fall a bit, like he remembers everything that's happened, how much time he lost with Stiles. Stiles and Peter try to redirect that when they can, eventually having a few games of cards, and manage to drag the sheriff out of his funk for the most part.

Stiles and the sheriff hug for a long time when Stiles and Peter leave. Peter waits patiently, not giving even a hint that he wants to leave. When Stiles pulls back, both he and the sheriff have suspiciously red eyes. 

"I'll call you, okay?" Stiles says.

"Okay, kid," the sheriff answers. "Whenever you want to."

Peter and Stiles are silent on the drive back home, at least until they park. 

"Thank you," Stiles says before they open the doors to get out. "Thank you for forgiving my dad."

"He's your father, Stiles. "I could do nothing else."

"You didn't _have_ to, but you did anyway. Thank you," Stiles says.

"You're welcome, love," Peter says. He presses a kiss to Stiles' temple before they both get out of the car and walk back into the house. 

-

It's a week later that Peter finally unveils the design he's been working on for Boyd. It's a portrait of Alicia framed by snapdragons, her favorite flower. Neither of them want to call it a tribute exactly. Stiles checks in on them throughout the process, bringing Boyd Gatorade and water because he hates feeling useless and knows that emotions are running high. Eventually he and Erica just park it at the front desk and wait for Peter and Boyd to be done, wincing when they hear Boyd's pained cries at the blowtorch. 

When he comes out and shows them the tattoo on his upper arm, his eyes are red-rimmed and Erica can't help but cry. 

"It's beautiful," she says. "She's beautiful."

"Peter did a good job," Boyd says.

"It was your idea, I can't take all the credit," Peter says. 

"It really is great," Stiles says, clapping Boyd on the shoulder.

"Come on," Erica says, taking Boyd's hand. "Let's go get something to eat. Getting burned and stabbed really takes it out of you, you need protein."

Boyd looks grateful for the reason to leave and follows Erica out.

"That's a good thing you did," Stiles says softly.

Peter shrugs, looking slightly uncomfortable as he always does when he's praised. It makes Stiles want to rage and Nana and Pop Hale all over again.

"It's my job," Peter says.

"It's a good job," Stiles says.

They sit at the front desk for a bit while they wait for Peter's 4:00 appointment, when Peter broaches the subject of what animal Stiles wants for his guardian tattoo.

"Australian magpie," Peter says flatly. 

"What? They swoop down and gouge people's eyes out!" Stiles says. 

Peter sighs and shakes his head. "Of course you'd want that."

"Do you have any better ideas?"

"Yes, actually. I was thinking of a phoenix," Peter says.

Stiles frowns. "But you said it has to be a real animal," Stiles says.

"Right," Peter says.

"Are you saying - are phoenixes real?" Stiles asks. "And you're just telling me this now?!" 

Peter shrugs. "Yes," he says.

"Peter! What else is real? Are unicorns real? Peter, are unicorns real?!"

-

Stiles is about to walk out the door with Peter, Boyd, and Erica for work a couple weeks later when his phone starts ringing. He looks down as his heart does a funny little tap dance in his chest. The wolves look at him in confusion.

"You guys go, I'll have to meet you there," Stiles says.

"Is everything okay?" Erica asks.

"It's Scott," Stiles says.

"Say no more," she says and all but shoves Peter and Boyd out the door.

Stiles stares at the phone. Half of him really doesn't want to answer. He doesn't want to get in another fight with Scott, he doesn't want Scott to finally say their friendship is done. But it's Scott and Stiles is nothing if not loyal, so he answers.

"Hey," he says warily.

 _"Hey, Stiles,"_ Scott says. He sounds tired.

"What's up?" Stiles asks, then winces. What's up? He and his friend haven't talked for months and the best he has is what's up?

 _"I talked to Isaac and Derek,"_ Scott says.

"That's good," Stiles says. "Er, good talk or bad talk?"

 _"Good, I think. I think I understand why you didn't tell me,"_ Scott says. _"But dude, you and Derek lied to me for years. I can't...that hurts so much."_

"It wasn't my secret to tell," Stiles says. "How'd you feel if someone told people that you were bisexual before you were ready? And there were hunters that tried to kill people just for that?"

 _"That's not the same at all,"_ Scott says and yeah, that was maybe a weak analogy on Stiles' part. _"But I mean...I get it. I'm still not happy though."_

"No, I don't expect you are," Stiles says sadly. "Are we...are you done with us? Me and Isaac and Derek?"

 _"No,"_ Scott says with a sigh. _"You and Derek are my best friends, I can't be done with you. And Isaac and Allison...I want to work it out."_

Stiles sighs in relief. He'd been trying to ignore it, pretend that he isn't fighting with Scott, that there isn't a big gaping hole in his life where one of his best friends used to be, but with Scott talking to him again, it all comes flooding back. Stiles lets out a shaky breath, blinking rapidly.

_"Are you still there?"_

"Yeah, yeah I'm here," Stiles says. "Sorry, just...you know. I missed you."

 _"I missed you, too,"_ Scott says. _"Any more secrets I should know about?"_

"No, I don't think so," Stiles says. "Oh! Peter says phoenixes are real!"

_"What?!"_

"I know! And he's just telling me now!"

 _"No way,"_ Scott says. _"Dude. Duuuude."_

"I know!" There's silence for a few moments, then Stiles asks, "Are we gonna be okay?"

 _"Yeah,"_ Scott says. _"Yeah, I think we are."_

Stiles sags in relief and stops trying to stop the tears that have been threatening to fall since he saw Scott's name on his caller ID.

"Good. That's - good, I'm glad, dude," Stiles says.

_"Yeah, me too."_

-

Stiles is nervous about his guardian tattoo. Even though he's had tattoos done and had his ears pierced, needles still aren't his favorite. Peter's good about it at least, doesn't judge him at all for looking away. He keeps a steady pain drain going, which Stiles still thinks is tattoo cheating, but Peter refuses to let him be in unnecessary pain. 

"It's going to take at least six hours," Peter says apologetically. "Normally I wouldn't do more than four hours at a time, if nothing else but to keep your body from having trouble healing it, but David said it all needs to be done at once. We don't need half of a giant bird flying around."

"Understandable," Stiles says. He's very carefully counting ceiling tiles. 

Peter stops occasionally to make Stiles eat or drink something, not wanting him to pass out on him. It takes closer to seven hours, Peter wanting to get every detail right. When he's finally done, Stiles is sore and his ass is completely asleep, but the phoenix is beautiful. It's vivid reds and oranges and yellows, looking like it's ready to fly off of his skin already.

Stiles mutters the Latin David had taught him. There's a strange tingling on his arm, then the phoenix is taking flight, launching itself off his upper arm. Stiles and Peter stare in awe as the bird circles around the room, soft flames trailing from its tail, before it makes its way back to Stiles, fluttering gently and sinking back into his skin with another strange tingling.

"Whoa," Stiles says, awestruck. 

"You'll be safer now," Peter says, kissing him lightly. "Love you."

"I love you, too," Stiles says. "Thank you."

"You're very welcome," Peter says.

Stiles looks down at his arm, sure he's going to be glancing down at the phoenix over and over again for the next few weeks. Or months. Whatever.

Stiles goes through the rest of the day in a happy haze. He and Scott are back on speaking terms, his dad's come around, and he has a job he actually likes. He has a pack, he has Peter, and he realizes that he's actually happy. Go figure.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on [ tumblr ](http://www.hotpinklizard.tumblr.com) or my [ main blog](http://www.femmmefatalist.tumblr.com).


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